


These Small Things

by Ohgeezerick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, One Shot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohgeezerick/pseuds/Ohgeezerick
Summary: A short and sweet one-shot of something that I have in my head. I will probably revise this a bit later.The Smith family show for Rick's last breaths.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	These Small Things

"It's just-", Jerry uncomfortably rubs the back of his neck, "just, kinda weird." 

Beth turns her head staring daggers into him, in a hushed aggravated voice she chides him, "for fucks sake, Jerry. The man is dying, the least you can do is show him some respect for once and look him the eye", she chokes on her words, tears begin to well in her eyes. Jerry stares at his feet in cowardice as he trails behind the matriarch of the family. 

It was not a top tier care facility; it was uncomfortably warm and the recirculated air clung to clothes. It was depressingly dark, light barely escaped through the edges of curtains while skeletal geriatrics were almost in vegetative states in their chairs watching static on the television. Most of the orderlies looked like they were familiar with the inside of a jail cell and were more interested in socializing with each other than attending to duties such as clearing out messy trays and changing soiled diapers. The smell was something breathtaking, if you tried to breathe through your mouth it would simply cling to the back of your throat which was almost worse. 

Rick's room was regrettably towards the opposite end of the facility, the traverse was Jerry's worst nightmare. Beth would jeer at wheelchair bound elders as they stretched their arms towards her, saying names of phantom daughters and loved ones. Jerry stumbled as he recoiled from the touch of a wrinkled dirty hand, making a sound of disgust as he accidentally bumped into the back of his wife. "Goddammit, Jerry", she sneered.

* * *

Slouched in a vinyl chair was Morty, his fingers idly played with the waffle knit hospital grade blanket as he listened to the hums and beeps of medical monitors around him. Summer sat in a putrid pink vinyl chair in the corner of the room, her legs crossed as she mindlessly texted on her phone. A television was mounted above her, it was on the fritz again, switching from channel to channel almost violently, back and forth, almost creating it's own dialogue as telenovellas, crime shows, and infomercials seemed to mix together. "Heh, Rick. Let's fix that for you", Morty says with a melancholy laugh as he stands and makes his way to the television and gives it a few hardy blows. It seems to have done the trick, an infomercial for ergonomic doors fills the room with fuzzy ambient noise. He attempts to change the channel but even the remote had seen better days, he beats it against his hand and attempts to change it; he catches sight of a frail hand stretch over scratchy bed sheets to pull the cord of the greyish-white over-sized bed remote towards him. Glassy eyes stare at the television as a slender finger strains to make contact with the large green button to change the channel, the front of the remote flashes it's green sensors to convey the request. "Look- looks like you've got the better remote, h-huh, Rick", he gives the old man a half-hearted smile even though his grandfather's glassy eyes never break contact with the glow of the screen.

* * *

Morty diverts his gaze from the pitiful sight in front of him and starts to spin a small dusty UFO figurine that has dutifully sat on his grandfather's nightstand for several years. A small smile forms on Morty's face as he recalls the day he brought it to show his grandfather; he couldn't have been more than four years old and excitedly maneuvered the UFO back and forth through the room, making zooming noises as his arm made imaginary trails in the air; his grandfather gave a smile as Morty 'landed' the small craft on his grandfather's chest, standing on his tiptoes to do so. "Th-that's really something, [belch] Morty", saliva escaped through the side of a partially paralyzed face. 

* * *

The sound of heavy rain taps at the window, Rick's head lolls to the side prompting Morty to follow suit. The neon business signs are distorted from the drops of water that lazily roll down the window. The Wubba Rubba-Dub-Dub Car Wash sign was badly faded as the 'R' could be mistaken for an 'L', the attached garage usually had it's bay open displaying the owner's hoard of shelves stuffed with gears, old mechanical parts, and various doodads. A few blocks behind the car wash was the steadfast Falcon Shoe's sign, wings outstretched and head missing as youths had decapitated it long ago and was probably now laid to rest in some murky basement. The delinquent act had managed to create a new sign all on it's own, as the Big Boy's Burgers mascot's head stood as a replacement which had been previously hidden behind the falcon's head. The sound of something rubbing on the glass is enough to make Morty jump slightly, Summer is unphased and now has her headphones in; the unsightly orange tabby cat is pressed against the window, it had roamed around the outside of the nursing home for years and looked as if it had seen it's fair share of street fights; Rick's fingers gently raise almost as if he's waving to it. 

Morty did a lot of watching while growing up; he watched his sister act out in a desperate bid for attention, he watched his parent's marriage fall apart, he watched Jessica- the girl he had been infatuated with for years get married to some college linebacker, but most of all he watched his grandfather. He had never felt that he fit in and out of all the people in his life, his grandfather who's brain was riddled with the effects of alcoholism and could barely make a full sentence was the person he felt closest to, the person he felt understood him the most. Or maybe it was that he could simply talk to someone who had no choice but to listen to him, someone that actually heard him? He would complain to Rick about his dating woes, he would read to him his sci-fi short stories that he wrote on crinkled pieces of lined paper that no one else would bother to listen to, he'd talk about his utter lack of self-confidence; and Rick would just...listen. The whole thing felt so one sided that Morty made it a point to bring small gifts to fill his grandfather's space; there was everything to a blue future cube that sat on a shelf to a dancing Twinkie figurine, he really had no rhyme or reason of why he chose to bring these small things, he just felt he had to. 

"He's like, gonna die I guess- something like vernie- vernie something", Summer's voice trailed off as she walked out of the room, Morty hadn't even heard her phone ring. Summer narrowly missed bumping into the nurse as she droned on and on, "Hey, Morty", her voice was apologetic, "brought some pickle juice for the road", she held up a small plastic medicine cup that she lightly swirled.

"Yeah, he'll, he'll like that", they meekly smile at each other. 

"Un-Uni-?", Rick can't finish her name. 

"Ya' know, Rick? Today you can call me whatever you want", she sniffs almost fighting back tears and she raises the small cup to his lips, allowing him to savor one final joy in his life. "Damn, Unity was his favorite. I heard she's going to try and make it today." Unity had been Rick's first nurse and every nurse after that whether male or female, black or white, he thought was 'Unity'. "Beth, Rick. I'll give you guys some privacy. Unity said she'd tried to make it, I don't know if she will...", the nurse places a hand on Beth's shoulder as she passes her leaving the room. 

It was Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome that had taken hold of Rick after decades of alcoholism, it was a wonder that he was still alive, but his vitals had drastically dropped these last few days. The attending doctor warned them he would could go any day now and today looked like it was in the cards. Summer had made her way back into the room, her Beth and Jerry made an awkward half circle at the foot of his bed, they looked uncomfortable. Beth had tears streaming down her face, Jerry was busy playing with a loose shoe string with one of his feet, and Summer slightly swayed side to side tapping a finger against her arm impatiently. "So, do we just- uh, wait?" Jerry feebly asked. 

"I don't know?" it was a mixture of exasperation and guilt that rolled off Beth's tongue. 

Morty remained seated at the side of Rick's bed, he was the only person in the room that looked as if they belonged. The rest of his family watched him as if he would have the answers, "R-Rick, it's uh, o-okay if you let go-o now", he squeezed his grandfather's hand. In a moment of clarity, Rick squeezed his grandson's hand; it was strangely beautiful how the television remote was just above their grip, it had served like a bridge between them for most of their life, especially when Rick became more and more non-responsive. Rick pulled on Morty's hand, trying to gesture for him to look at him, "y-yeah?", Rick's other hand beckoned him with a pointer finger to come closer. Bet was in almost in hysterics, while Summer tried to comfort her, they focused more on each other than the broken man they had come to see. 

"M-M-Morty", his voice was quiet, Morty strained to hear him trying to place his ear as close to has grandfather's face as he could. "Ri-Rick and M-Morty, forever an-and ever." He pointed to taped piece of construction paper on the wall across from his bed, under the TV, it was a crude drawing that Morty made when he was younger, featuring the UFO, Rick, and himself. Rick's eyes slowly closed and Morty watched him take his last shaky breath. Summer and Jerry were tending to Beth, the orange cat had wandered back into view through the window drenched by the torrential downpour, and the TV went on the fritz again. 

This was the moment he knew without a doubt that no one exists on purpose, no one belongs anywhere, and that everyone eventually dies; so he sits back down, holding a cold lifeless hand and watches tv.


End file.
